


Sway the Consequences

by SilverLynxx



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: F1!AU, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2215683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLynxx/pseuds/SilverLynxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s a shred of reassurance amidst the conflicting emotions churning inside him; the headiness of knowing he’d had the power to sway an entire room for or against Niki’s cause, and the apprehension for the consequences of that decision.</i>
</p><p>When the vote to cancel Nurburgring 1976 ends differently, it affects Niki and James' lives further down the line, and brings them closer than they ever could have been solely as drivers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1976

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the overdue request for [Kazemei](http://Kazemei.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. I figure this is going to be a little long so I decided to upload this part to try and re-establish some activity **:P** I finished it in less than 6 hours, so lets hope I can keep up the memomentum! Kudos, comments  & critique always appreciated <3[Title may change]

“It also means you would effectively win the Championship.”

James’ voice cuts through the rabble and silences the room, and Niki turns to his rival who had up until this point been a spectator on the sidelines. The voices suddenly rise and rumble again in agreement, giving out enlightened ‘ahhs’ as if they’d just discovered a hidden agenda Niki didn’t possess. “So I can see why this suits you just fine,”

Niki can feel the smirks of the drivers directed at him, yet he is focused entirely on Hunt, the one man Niki is sure could make this race go ahead if he was determined.

“Why?” He challenged with a gesture, “There will be no points for me either.”

“No, but there would be one race less where I, or anyone else here, could catch you,” James stands as he speaks, and with that simple action he seems to dominate the room.

“James is right, this is just tactics!” Depailler bursts out. The room descends into noise and James stands in the center of it admiring his work, Niki feels frustration clog his throat. He had expected to face resistance in regards to cancelling the race, but he berates himself for not expecting Hunt to make things twice as difficult, if only to prove a point that he could. The man’s competitiveness overruled his common sense, and he was going to drag every driver down with him.

“Maybe he’s just frightened.” It isn’t James that tosses the accusation, but it silences the room just as effectively. The Austrian turns sharply, trying to pinpoint who had said it.

“Which asshole said this?” Niki snaps, but few will look at him; even fewer will meet his eye. James is of course the infuriating exception.

“Yes, of course I’m frightened…and so are you.” Suddenly eyes are diverting themselves left and right as he let his words sink in, determined to have them see sense. “I accept every time I get in my car, there is a twenty percent chance I could die,” James sits down, “And I can live with it. But not one percent more. And today, with the rain, the risk is more.”

“I suppose that all depends on how good you are in the rain,” Niki stared at the Brit who was determined to counter him at every turn.

He gestured towards himself, “I have the track record here. I am the only person in history to do the Ring in under seven minutes. So actually, it’s to my advantage to race here today.” James smirks, and Niki feels fury well in his throat, “Because I’m quicker than all of you!” he motions to the room but he’s glaring furiously at Hunt, and as a chorus of scoffs rise up around him Niki realises his mistake. Hunt had baited him, and now he knows any ground he may have won he had just handed over to his rival with his heated words.

Niki looks around the room; at the drivers murmuring loudly in agreement and Patrick leaning back to ask “Why are we here, Niki? Come on.”

Glancing at Hunt and finding the man staring at him, Niki sucks on his teeth in irritation and sits down with furious sigh as the officials tried to regain order.

“All those in favour of cancelling the race?”

Niki raised his arm without hesitation, and a few scattered hands followed. But after a beat of silence with no additional movement, Niki realised it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. He drops his hand, knowing he has already lost.

“James, what are you doing?” Niki’s head snaps up at Depailler’s outburst, and he is dumbfounded by the sight of James sat with his hand raised and his expression giving away nothing. What on earth was the asshole playing at?

Dissent rolls across the room as everyone tries to make sense of the situation, until the official clears his throat and repeats; “All those in _favour_ of _cancelling_ the race at Nurburgring today, please raise your hand.”

Niki lifts his again, and James’ hand never wavers as he remains staring resolutely back at Niki. When the Austrian manages to tear his eyes away to glance around the room, he almost laughs with relief when he sees tentative hands beginning to rise, following the silent lead of Niki’s most vocal challenger.

“All those in favour of racing? Gentlemen, the race is off.” The room surges into motion as drivers and managers head towards the doors while muttering about the unexpected turn of events.

Niki presses through the crowd towards the window where James had last been, but when he gets there the man is already gone.

-

“Hunt.”

From his place under a canvas awning, looking out at the rain falling in sheets with a cigarette between his lips, James turns towards the approaching Austrian. The confusion is evident in Niki’s expression, and James thinks perhaps there is a hint of suspicion as well as the shorter man stops mere feet away from him.

“Why did you vote to cancel the race?” Niki demands, and James’ lip curls at the familiar way the man forgoes any bullshit.

“Was that not what you wanted? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

“You were against me the entire time, arguing with me, challenging my decision, and then you vote against the race. Are you trying to prove a point, James? Are you even taking this seriously?” Agitation seeps into Niki’s voice as he speaks, and James pinches the cigarette between his fingers and releases a lungful of smoke.

“You said you were scared.”

Niki drew back with a frown, and James savoured the rare look of uncertainty. It’s a shred of reassurance amidst the conflicting emotions churning inside him; the headiness of knowing he’d had the power to sway an entire room for or against Niki’s cause, and the apprehension for the consequences of that decision.

“I don’t understand.”

The Brit locked eyes with Niki, his tone is thoughtful and subdued. “I figured that if you of all people were willing to admit to a room full of rival drivers that you were scared, there must be a damn good reason for it.” James looks away, takes a long drag of his cigarette, and then flicks the stub into the rain as Niki watches on with nothing to say.

“Well, until Austria I suppose, Rat. I expect a good race; you’re on your home turf after all.” The mood is lifted as James reclaims his smile and familiar mischievous tone, and yet as Niki nods, he feels like something significant has just occurred.

“Until then.” He agrees, as James nods and jams his hands into his pockets. He hesitates for just a moment, but then saunters off into the rain without another word. Niki watches the man until he is out of sight, battling with a lingering sense of disconcertion and the feeling that he has greatly misjudged James Hunt.

 

\------------------------------------

Even with the race at Nurbugring cancelled, James somehow finds himself being titled World Champion by one solitary point at the Fuji track, and he hoists his trophy above his head to the cheers of thousands.

After what feels like an eternity lost in a swarm of screaming and grabbing hands, the Brit is granted a brief reprieve from the crowds and cameras when he is able to duck unseen into the deserted McLaren garage. He places his trophy on a workbench, dumps his laurels to the side, and rests his back against the wall as he takes a swig of the bottle he’d somehow managed to attain and keep hold of. He startles when door grinds and swings open, and is nearly spits out his mouthful of beer when he sees who exactly is at the door.

“Niki!” James rights himself and trots towards the other man. “Everyone said you’d left for the airport, what are you doing here?” he grinned, clapping the man good naturedly on the shoulder. Niki looks as serious as ever, perhaps even a bit put out, but James is relieved to see that Niki didn’t appear to harbour any hostility.

“I came to congratulate you; you won the championship after all,”

James huffs in amusement, before his smile falls slightly. “I heard you dropped out…”

Niki nods sharply. “Yes. I found the conditions completely unacceptable. If I was not going to race on the Nurburgring, then it would be foolish to risk my life here where conditions were even worse.”

A silence descends following Niki words as James takes in the implication, they viewed racing so very differently with James willing to risk his life and Niki not. But he found he didn’t respect Niki any less for his decision, and he glances at the trophy sat conspicuously on the desk amongst tools and schematics.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t share it, you deserved to be Champion just as much as I did,”

“That is true.” Niki agrees, and James laughs, coaxing an amused smile from Niki as well. “But then it would not be a competition. Enjoy your title, James, I will have it from you next year.” Niki extends his hand to James, lips still quirked at the corners.

“Oh will you now?” James challenged teasingly, but he reached out and shook Niki’s hand firmly.

“Until next season,” the Austrian says, breaking the hold.

“Until then, Niki.” The blond replies. Niki pauses, then he nods one last time before leaving the garage. James collects his items and follows shortly after, but he doesn’t see Niki again before he is swallowed by the crowds.


	2. Until Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days, what's going on here? :P

James runs a hand through his hair and wills himself to focus on the bit of paper detailing the poor state of his accounts. He vaguely regrets leaving the fast paced life of Formula 1, if only for the impressive money he’d made from barrelling around a track in a custom made coffin with built in fireworks. 

Unfortunately that life was now behind him, and whilst he admittedly missed the excitement, the parties, and the excessive queue of bed-partners, he certainly wasn’t inclined to get back into it, not just for the money at any rate. But with his contract with the BBC not filling the gaps in his wallet, James decides there’s only one other option, so he begins looking around for someone willing to share his house. 

It takes three weeks of inquiring, badgering, and bribing before James eventually runs out of contacts and hits a dead end. He’d never been a particularly patient man, but the thought of sitting and twiddling his thumbs while waiting for a possibly-interested party to contact him before he’s kicked to the curb isn’t an appealing one. Slumping down into his armchair with a frustrated sigh, James flicks irritably through his paper-laden coffee table while contemplating the bottle of wine in the fridge. He’d just about convinced himself that drinking it would be a stellar idea, when the shrill ring of the phone distracts him.

He stretches over the arm of the chair and snatches the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Is this James Hunt?” questions the voice on the other end. Direct, no pleasantries. The words are thickened with a familiar accent James hasn’t heard in a very long time, and the prospect of who is calling leaves James flummoxed.

“Hello?” The voice sounds irritated, and a broad grin creeps across James’s face. 

“Is this Niki Lauda?” He asks innocently. 

“Ja. Who am I speaking to?” Niki demands, and James can barely contain his delight. Even after so long, winding up the Austrian was still entertaining.

“Ratty! I am absolutely offended you don’t recognise me,” he grins into the receiver, and hears a sound of disgust on the other end.

“Hunt. You are such an asshole.” James laughs outright, and hears a soft huff of amusement on the other end. 

“What can I do for you, Ratty, or is this just a pleasure call? Although I’ll have you know they’re usually reserved for pretty girls. Or at least people with more comprehensible accents,” he teases, and he can almost feel Niki’s eye roll.

“I saw Peterson the other day; he mentioned you were looking for a roommate?” 

James perks up immediately, “I am indeed! You have very fortuitous timing, my Ratty friend. Do you know someone?” He rifles through the mess of papers in front of him to try and locate a pen.

“Yes. Me.”

James stops. “You? I’m not sure if this is an attempt to regain your youth, but I don’t think re-enacting our F3 days will help. Also don’t you have a Viennese love nest with that lovely wife of yours?”

“I’m only thirty, you bastard,” Niki snips. “And I would rather not talk about my personal affairs over the phone. Are you looking for a roommate or not?”

“Well you’re in luck, Ratty, I have a lovely fully furnished two-bedroom house in the sought after area of Wimbledon that could be yours for a reasonable price. Would you like a viewing?” James grinned. 

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” 

“Until tomorrow then, darling.” The line goes dead, but not before the Brit hears a muffled and fondly muttered ‘Asshole’.

-

James is woken up at the ungodly hour of seven thirty by a rapid succession of knocks on his front door. He peels himself from his bed with a groan and staggers down the stairs in his boxers with the bed sheet tangled around his waist. Grasping the door handle, the blond takes a moment to ruffle his hair to make it slightly more presentable before he pulls it open and squints into the light.

“Do you greet everyone in this state?” Niki asks conversationally.

“Niki!” James greets, surprised and yet not so to discover the man at his door. Because who else thought it was appropriate to wake someone up before nine on a Sunday? “Jesus Christ, Niki, if I’d known you were moving straight in I would have cleaned up a bit first,” the Brit adds, looking down at the several bags at Niki’s feet. The Austrian snorts inelegantly. 

“If you did not clean for a viewing, I do not think for a second you would clean for me moving in. Is…this a bad time?” The note of doubt in Niki’s voice has James jumping to reassure him. He wasn’t expecting Niki to show up ready to move in, but he certainly isn’t going to complain. He’s pretty sure the news of his immediate new housemate is going to make his brother cry with relief when he tells him. 

“Come in, I’ll show you to the spare,” he grabs one of Niki’s bags while the Austrian picks up the other two and leads him through the house. “The living room is just in there and leads into the kitchen, and the second door to the kitchen is there. Both bedrooms are upstairs with the bathroom at the end of the hall.”

Climbing up the stairs he nudges open the first door to his left and dumps the bag he’s carrying on the bed. Niki tuts lightly but doesn’t comment as he places his bags gently on the floor. 

“So…I’ll leave you get settled, can I get you a drink?” James asks as he steps backwards towards the door. 

“Coffee, black, if you don’t mind.”

James nods and sidles back down the hall, leaving Niki to acquaint himself with the room. 

-

Niki emerges ten minutes later just as James finishes his hasty cleaning spree and puts their mugs on the table. He falls back into his armchair and watches Niki expectantly until the Austrian follows suit, sitting on the edge of the couch and picking up his cup.

A silence stretches between them that could have been described as awkward or tense, but James is too curious to pay much mind to it. Instead he leans forward and asks, “So are you going to tell me why you’re here with me instead of your wife, or am I going to have to guess?”

Niki casts him a withering look, but James merely smiles in what he knows is an endearing way back at him until the brunet rolls his eyes irritably in defeat.

“Not that it is any of your business, but Marlene and I have decided to go our separate ways.”

“You’re getting a divorce!?” James didn’t intend to sound so shocked, and Niki’s eyes widen slightly in surprise at his reaction, but it’s not something he’d expected at all. James had always joked that Marlena would come to her senses eventually – Cold and calculating Niki Lauda couldn’t be easy to live with, after all – but if he was honest with himself, Niki and Marlene’s marriage had seemed pretty damn strong. “God, I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Niki cuts in. “It was a mutual decision. But as I gave Marlene the house I needed somewhere to stay in the meantime, and I heard the price here was reasonable.” He smirked.

James quirks a grin, “They are indeed. Although I have to apply a fifteen percent looks like a rat fee, I’m afraid!” 

Niki flips him off, and James laughs louder than he has in weeks.


End file.
